Reflections in the Nile

by J. Suzanne Frank

  “You want to buy, lady?”

  I turned and saw a young boy with a silver tray bearing small Arabic tea glasses. I paid him for the postcards and hurried into the sunlit street.

  Anton followed me. “Are you okay?” he asked, concern apparent on his sharp features.

  My fingers trembled as I unzipped my daypack and slipped in the postcards. Anton offered me a cigarette, which he lit with a courtly gesture and a gold lighter. No ordinary backpacker, this, I thought momentarily. Then I remembered. The images had been so intense, so real. I had felt a … a displacement of some sort … through to my bones. I was slightly nauseated. I inhaled deeply and enjoyed the sting of the aromatic tobacco as it singed my lungs and probably took another year off my life.

  “Yep, I'm okay. It just felt as if time froze for a moment, and I could feel past and present—a window open to another world….” I trailed off, my memory of the twisting and swirling bodies fading rapidly in the bright Egyptian afternoon, filled with the squawk of radios and the honks of car horns. I stubbed out my cigarette, feeling stupid for rambling. “I'm sorry. I sound crazy.” I turned away from Anton.

  “Come, I will buy you a coffee and pastry,” he offered.

  “Thanks,” I said, and set off with him, trying to shake off the otherworldly feelings.

  After spending the afternoon in the Luxor Museum, I bought the Rediscovery of Ancient Egypt, slathered myself with SPF 50, and slipped a CD into my Discman. I sat out by the beautifully sculpted pool to read about Egypt during the French empire, pages about people whose names I'd heard from Cammy most of my life. Old portraits and detailed reproduction artwork filled the chapters. However, I was restless and began playing around with a logo on my sketch pad. It mixed the hieroglyphs for cat into a strangely attractive design. Not quite right, but I was getting there. Kitten, Cammy's nickname for me as a kid, was one of those things you learn to hate. However, the glyphs for it were interesting, so I ignored their meaning. I couldn't spell in ancient Egyptian anyway, but the shapes were great.

  The setting sun brought me back to reality.

  This close to the equator, the brilliant sunset illuminated the sky for only a few minutes, but the colors were vibrant—pinks, violets, and golds merging for a brief but exquisite moment. Then it was dark, a soft blue-blackness that felt like an engulfing blanket, gleaming with the silver of the first stars. I reluctantly went inside to the artificially cold interior of the hotel. Sleep would be a welcome refuge tonight.

  December 23, my birthday. By the time the sun rose I had been up for an hour. I'd breakfasted on the hotel's terrace and made quick sketches of the graceful feluccas racing from shore to shore, their triangular white sails achingly bright in the sunshine.

  Anton did not make an appearance at breakfast, not that I was surprised after our coffee the day before. I hadn't said two words—which was strange in itself—and after several attempts at conversation, he had given up. He'd finally excused himself to go visit a mosque, and I had turned down the invitation to join him.

  Yesterday had been disturbing.

  After my third cup of Turkish coffee, however, I felt ready to face anything, even another day of playing tourist I donned my espadrilles.

  The temple at Karnak was amazing. When I'd gone through it with Camille, she had wandered off in the middle of her explanation to stand in awe of the largest temple in the world. I had wanted to return alone. So far I had dodged all the “helpful” tour guides by bribing some kids with my trusty ballpoint pens to protect my privacy. Before being besieged by a group of Italian tourists, I had captured some great sketches of various walls. Snaking my way through the columns and up to the inner sanctum, I found three rooms.

  Feeling like Goldilocks avoiding furry carnivores, I poked into them all. Cammy had said they were for the resident gods, the holy family of Luxor: Amun-Ra, the sun god; Mut, his consort; and Khonsu, their child. I tuned out after that, the intricacies of Egyptian religion confusing and alien to me. When we were kids Cammy tried to explain how the different gods and myths all fit together, even as they directly contradicted each other. She would explain at length how people became priests and priestesses because of family connection, not because of any personal devotion to the gold-covered gods. I hadn't cared.

  All three rooms were small. In ancient times the god-statue resided there on a barque, an Egyptian papyrus-sheaf boat that angled upward at both ends. The first two rooms were empty, the reliefs on the walls faded to almost nothing, the gold that had once accented them picked off thousands of years before by greedy nonbelievers.

  I stepped into the third room. Also like the Goldilocks tale, the third room seemed to fit, why I couldn't say. Wisps of peace, acceptance, and desire wrapped around me. I grabbed the ankh around my throat and rubbed it across my chin. As I looked out the broken window, I realized some amazing pictures could be taken from here. A beautiful sunrise, my mind whispered. One of the many turbaned guards stepped in and told me to leave, but I was determined to return and get those shots.

  Still burning inwardly from the feeling of the third room, I left the temple grounds in search of lunch. I saw a small boat restaurant offering the “bestest food in ancient Lucqsur” and ordered the specialty of the house, fish stuffed with figs and pomegranates, my favorite fruits. It seemed fitting to celebrate with an expensive meal. After all, a girl turned twenty-four years old only once. I savored a honey-coated pastry and heavy coffee for dessert as I watched boats race from shore to shore, the whole world bleached by the power of the sun. No wonder the ancient Egyptians had worshipped it as Amun-Ra.

  After eating, I sat on one of the many benches that lined the Nile and watched the procession of tour boats, tourists, and Egyptians. Idly I sketched, capturing on paper the sparse waterfowl and the hands of the sailors.

  I heard steps behind me.

  “Chloe?” he said. “How are you today? Feeling better, I hope?”

  “Hello, Anton,” I said with a smile. “I'm much better, thanks. Where are you off to?”

  “Nowhere, I think. I am tired,” he said, wiping sweat from his brow. He stepped out of his Birkenstocks and laughed. “So much sand.” He shook his head ruefully. “I think I will go swimming this afternoon and then to the Son et Lumière tonight.”

  “Oh?” I said, curious. Cammy had recommended going, but not alone, under any circumstances. “The Sound and Light show? I've heard it's supposed to be wonderful, but what exactly is it?” I gestured for him to join me.

  He sat gracefully, stretching his leanly muscled tanned legs before him and laying his backpack on the ground. “It is in Karnak. After dark they lead one through the temple, while describing what it was like to be an ancient Egyptian worshiper, yes? Then it ends by the Sacred Lake about half after ten.”

  I grinned inwardly. It was tonight, huh? Maybe my wish to explore that third room was not quite so impossible. Or the sunrise photos… ? Hmmm … did I have the right lenses?

  He continued, “It is quite expensive, very crowded, and gets cold, but it is also amazing and should not be missed. It is not Christmas church services, but it promises to be memorable.”

  “It sounds great,” I mused. “I think I'll go, too.”

  Anton looked at me through his dark sunglasses. “And your sister? Maybe you will both go with me and after we could get a coffee?”

  I smiled. I was actually surprised he would give me a second thought since I had been such a doorknob yesterday, but it was a great opportunity. I hedged, since I'd told him Cammy was in town. It wasn't smart to travel alone, being female. “Cammy has been before. It would probably bore her. If the invitation is open to just me, I'd really like to go.”

  Anton smiled widely. “I am very pleased.” He looked over my shoulder at my pencil sketches. “You are quite talented,”

  One of the curses of being a redhead is that when I blush, the whole world knows it. “Thank you,” I said with wildly rosy cheeks.

  He held out his lean hand
for the sketchbook. “May I see?” After a second's hesitation I handed him the book. He flipped through exacting renderings of buildings, trees, flowers, and hands, then gave it back. “You have a very strong hand,” he said. “You are obviously an artist.”

  I nodded “Advertising. I created the TacoLitos spokes-iguana.” This obviously meant nothing to him. If one didn't live in the southwest part of the United States, my spokes-iguana was unknown.

  “Why are there no people in your drawings? Only structures and plants?”

  “I don't do people,” I said a little embarrassed.

  “Why not?”

  “I can't capture their essence, their personality or spirit. They come out very flat, lifeless. Like cartoon characters.” It would have been too much to say I didn't have enough depth as a human being to interpret others’ faces accurately.

  “I see.” He lit a cigarette. “I love comics and cartoons.”

  I laughed. In silence we watched a boat debark tourists from every nation, fanning their faces rapidly and drinking bottled water. There were Aussies, having escaped their scalding winter on the other end of the planet; German students in shorts and backpacks, thrilling in the sun; American retirees in hats, sunglasses, and cameras; and packs of Asians, immaculately dressed and videotaping madly. I fiddled with my necklace. Anton glanced over.

  “What is this necklace you are always touching? Is it for good luck?”

  I flushed. “No. I've had it a long time and play with it. It's just a habit.”

  He picked up the silver chain and brought the ankh close, looking at the hieroglyphs etched into the silver. “From where did it come?”

  “Cairo.”

  “So you have been here before?”

  “No. Not Luxor. Just Cairo. My father traveled through Egypt when I was about eight and my sister twelve. Lizza, our au pair, took care of us while my parents traveled on diplomatic missions. We were in the souq with Lizza when this woman stepped forward.”

  I could see it all as if it were yesterday. The dirty, dusty street, our correct au pair behind us, Cammy and I holding hands, cringing as a wrinkled shop woman, who looked for all the world like a character from the Brothers Grimm, came forward calling out to us, her bright black eyes acknowledging our foreign coloring. She hustled us into a small shop and looked back and forth between us, as if making a decision. Then she held out the silver ankh necklace. Cammy, after a moment, reached for it. The woman screeched and snatched it back. Frightened Cammy started tugging on my arm, but the woman placed the long silver chain around my neck and started laughing.

  We were both terrified. Leaving Lizza to pay whatever the old woman wanted we ran through the crowded streets, searching for a way out of the bewildering and smelly market.

  “Do you know what it says?” Anton asked breaking into my memory.

  “No. Cammy has never wanted to touch it; she claims it burned her as a child” I scoffed. “She regards the whole thing superstitiously. However, she's the only one I know who reads hieroglyphs.”

  His angular face was close to mine now, his brow creased in concentration, dark glasses hiding his eyes. “I read hieroglyphs,” he said releasing the necklace but not moving away. I looked at the expanse of tinted glass two inches from my nose … and felt my breath check. Anton licked his lips. “Would you like to know what it says?” he asked softly.

  Time stood still, a frisson making me shiver, suddenly cold on this Egyptian afternoon. I felt rather than heard a still, small voice in my head say this was where the road divided What road? Was Anton going to kiss me and change my life? Not likely.

  “Tell me,” I said, equally softly.

  Anton leaned back and took off his sunglasses, his pupils becoming pinpoints of black in the intensity of the sun. “It is a time.”

  “A time?” I blurted out, disappointed.

  “Yes. A certain designation of time, and the name of that time. It has to do with Egyptian astrology. Maybe your sister can illuminate it for you.” His gaze was intent on my face.

  I looked away. A time? An astrological time? As an imaginative child and even as a young teenager, I had fantasized that it was a secret message, a hidden identity. Something. “A time” was definitely anticlimactic.

  Anton rose to his feet, stubbing out his cigarette. “I shall see you later? Yes? Maybe we will walk together?”

  “Walk together?”

  “To the Son et Lumière?”

  “Oh. Yeah,” I said, my disappointment about my necklace having knocked everything else out of my mind. “That would be cool.”

  Anton picked up his backpack and leaned toward me. I lifted my head, and he kissed my forehead. Just a gentle peck, like a brother. Then he left, the breeze blowing his faded green T-shirt against his lean body. I sat there, a bit dazed. I didn't want to admit even to myself that I was disappointed. I'm not easy, but who can resist a holiday romance? He was almost across the street when I shouted, “Anton?”

  He turned back to me, glasses on and his hand shading his face.

  “What was the time?”

  He put a hand to his ear and I cupped my hands, ignoring the looks I received. “The time? The astrological time?”

  I heard his response as if I were listening underwater. “The RaEmhetep,” he shouted. “The name for the eleventh hour of the night.”

  Waving absently, I walked back to my bench. Bizarre! I looked down at the necklace, at the tiny inscription on the one side. The writing was just as clear as it had been sixteen years ago. The silver had not worn at all, despite the fact I couldn't remember ever having taken it off. I mused, staring across the Nile.

  The RaEmhetep.

  Dismissing it from my mind, along with the ruggedly handsome man who had chosen not to kiss me, I put away my notepad and pencils and started to walk toward Luxor Temple, making my plans for the night.

  The mirror was foggy from the steam of my shower, but I could see enough to know I looked striking. With a long nose and squared jaw, my features have always seemed too strong for my coloring, but what could I do?

  I had bought the long black skirt, tank, and crocheted tunic less than six hours before my flight. It was from my favorite trendy boutique, an example of impulse shopping at its most dangerous. I put on some copper lipstick and pinched my cheeks. The dry air did wonders for my hair. It swung smoothly from my crown to just below my chin, the bright color reflecting gold and bronze highlights. The contrast of the black outfit and my rosy skin made my angled eyes look even greener and more catlike. I ran a tongue over my freshly brushed teem and stepped into my sandals.

  I made an appropriately dramatic entrance to the lobby and choked back surprise that the charming backpacker now wore linen trousers and a cashmere sweater. And glasses. He kissed me on the cheek and gave me a white flower, then we left on foot.

  “So, do you travel for fun or pleasure?” I asked.

  He laughed as we dodged a group of begging children, ignoring their cries of “Baksheesh! Baksheesh!”

  He looked at me intently for a moment. “Pleasure,” he said. “I am a biochemist, and my specialty is hematology. It is very, um, how do you say, intense? So each year I have several months of holiday and travel.”

  “Several months! Wow! You better keep that job,” I said. “I've never heard of a company giving months off at a time. Do you, uh, enjoy working with blood?” The whole idea grossed me out.

  Anton chuckled. “Yes, yes.” Enthusiasm filled his voice. “Blood is amazing. It is the essence of who we are as creatures, and it is what we need to live, yet we are quite unknowing about the effects modifying it can have on live beings. Life is in the blood.” He must have seen my involuntary shudder at his words, because he asked what I did.

  “I work free-lance, and fortunately the company I am contracting with now is run by a traditional Italian family who basically close down from December fifteenth to January fifteenth.”

  A cool breeze blew off the Nile as the first glitter of stars ap
peared low on the horizon.

  “How is it that you travel with no group? Americans always travel in groups, yet you are alone? Especially at this time of year?”

  “My sister is here,” I interjected.

  “Ahhh, yes, your sister,” he said glibly.

  “I'm, I mean, we're, a little bit different from your average American family. My mom is an English archaeologist and my dad is with the State Department. He's originally from Texas and used to be in uniform. He was stationed all over the world, so I've traveled alone to meet my parents since I was a kid. We've lived mostly in Moslem countries; consequently, Christmas has never been that big a deal, unless we were going home. None of us felt like going home this year.”

  I looked down the rapidly darkening street, the muffled voices in a variety of languages floating out to meet us. “I guess because I've lived so many different places, when I travel I like to stay longer—really absorb the atmosphere and culture. That's almost impossible to do when you see five countries in three days.”

  We laughed together.

  “As for my being here … my sister just got her doctorate and suggested I meet her to celebrate.”

  “Where are your parents now?”

  “Brussels, I think. Their schedule is hard to follow,” I said with a laugh. “We'll meet for the New Year in Greece. My parents have a house there, since that's where they met and married. Aren't you going to miss Christmas with your family?” I asked.

  Anton smiled, a little sadly, I thought. “My family is somewhat scattered. I am divorced.”

  “Do you have any children?” I was embarrassed at bringing up such an obviously painful topic.

  “No. My wife is also a scientist. It worked well for us. At least I thought it did, until she asked for a divorce. She came out of the, um, cupboard, and no longer wanted to be married.”

  “The cupboard?” I asked, confused.

  “Yes. She has a woman she loves.”

  “Oh. I see. You mean she came out of the closet. That must have been very difficult for you.” Talk about your awkward conversations!